Breakfast
by DoctorAwesome1
Summary: It started with a bowl of cornflakes, and it ended with his mother.
1. Cornflakes

It felt like there was a draft in the room. The windows were old and that was probably why it felt like the cool autumn air was seeping inside the cozy walls of the house.

He wanted to nestle deeper into his mess of blankets, but the cold air continued to nip at his nose, and he heard the shout coming from the hall.

"Ben! Breakfast! Wake up sleepy head!"

And with that, he groggily pulled the blankets off from around his body and slipped out from under the quilted sheets.

"Coming!" He yelled, struggling to pull on his shoes and slip a sweater over his bony little shoulders.

And once he had finished clothing himself, he rushed out of his bedroom and down the staircase as fast as his feet could carry him. Awaiting him at the bottom was a scene quite different from most mornings.

"Good thing it's a Saturday, sleepy head," is what his mother would usually say to him on Saturday mornings, while setting the table with a home made breakfast like no other.

But instead it was his father. His bowl of cornflakes in front of him, and a smaller bowl, just across the table from his.

"Dad, where's Mom? Why isn't she making breakfast?"

He lowered the newspaper he had been reading and looked up. "Don't worry, Benji. Mother wasn't feeling well, it's nothing to get worked up about."

Sitting down, he began to stir the spoon around in his cornflakes, watching them swirl round and round in the vortex of milk until the flakes evened out and the liquid was still. It was kind of like the ideal life. You get sucked into it and you have to get yourself straightened out, but in the end you'll find still waters, and like the flakes, things will just seem to even out.

Then again, most people journey through several milk vortexes. Metaphorically Speaking, of course. Maybe it was impossible to have the ideal life. Maybe it was impossible to have a steady and balanced life. But what did he know? It's not a boy's job to figure out the bumps and twists in the road of life, he's got more important things to do. At the moment, eating cornflakes was one of them.

It's been a while, he realized, since we've had cornflakes.

It's been even longer, trying to imaging the last time it was Dad making breakfast, and not Mother.


	2. Scrambled Eggs And Bacon

Sunday.

He followed through with the same routine, waking up and rushing down the stairs.

And again, he was greeted by his father, and not his mother.

His father had his nose stuck in his favorite book once again, Ben wasn't even certain that he noticed him coming down the stairs.

Ben. That's what his mother always called him. It was strange, yesterday, his father calling him by his birth name. With him it was always 'Hawk' or 'Hawkeye', very rarely was he ever Ben. Ben was usually heard coming out of his mouth only when he was in trouble, which wasn't too often.

"Why don't you sit down, Ben."

It was Ben today. And it was strange.

Sitting down, he looked at the plate before him. The delicious aroma filled his nose; and the entire kitchen.

Scrambled eggs and bacon.

It wasn't a first. But it had been a while since mother had made scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast. It had been even longer since his father had made it. But he had to admit, it looked wonderful, even if it wasn't his mother's cooking.

"Is Mom still not feeling good?"

Daniel looked up from his book. He kept his voice as calm and as steady as he quietly spoke the words:

"Mother's in the hospital," and as he said so, he could see the fear wash over his son's youthful face, so he quickly covered it up with, "but there's nothing to worry about."

"You promise?..."

Daniel nodded. "She'll be okay."

She had to be. Not just for his sake, but for Hawkeye's.


	3. Storm

_"Mother's in the hospital, but there's nothing to worry about."_

His father's voice echoed in his mind as he swished his feet around in the chilly tide pool. He felt like it was an appropriate time to visit the sandy beach and cool down. He had excused himself from breakfast, hardy having ate anything off the plate.

And he cried.

He was alone so he didn't have to worry about the judgement of anyone else laughing or calling him a sissy. No one was here but him and a far off fisherman. It was cloudy and cold, it even looked like the sprinkles falling from the sky could turn into as big of a storm as the one going on in his mind.

His eyes were still damp and stung from letting the rainstorm in his mind leak out. Rubbing seemed to make the stinging worse, but it wasn't too much of a bother.

His father hadn't come looking for him, and he couldn't tell if it had been a few minutes, or a few hours since he came here, but the dreary weather was indeed brewing a storm. And before he knew it, it was pouring down rain.

It was cold, but it felt like a chilled relief for his clouded brain. He could feel the fresh drops on his face, mixing in with salty tears.

Continuing to kick his feet around in the small pool, he laid down on his back, feeling some of the sand brush into his hair. The clouds above him seemed massive, and to a ten year old boy, a few looked like turtles. He yawned as he stretched his arms out over the sand beneath him. A mid-day nap, he thought, didn't sound so bad right about now.

So he closed his eyes and tried to find a little peace in the stormy world around him.


	4. Down By The Beach

Daniel pulled on his raincoat and rubber boots when he realized how hard the rain began to pour down.

It had been nearly an hour since Hawkeye disappeared, and he was beginning to get worried.

Daniel stepped out of the old house. By this time the rain was freezing cold. He could feel the wind blowing and hear it's whisper as he walked down the street.

He shivered as he drew closer to the beach. Daniel had a feeling that the beach would be the best place to look for Hawkeye. That's where he'd always go when he was sad or angry. Daniel remembered well doing the same thing as a child. But he never remembered doing it at such a stupid time.

As worried as he was about Hawkeye, and for as nervous as he was about his wife, he could feel annoyance creeping in knowing that Hawkeye just had to choose a day like this to run off.

Upon reaching the point where dry grasses began to blend in with sand, Daniel strained his eyes, scanning them over the beach.

He could feel his heart beginning to race when his eyes met with his son's body lying by the tide pools.

 _"He's probably just sleeping. He's just sleeping."_ He repeated to himself.

"BEN!" He began to yell, running down the beach.

As he approached closer, he could see him groggily open his eyes, and sighed in relief.

Hawkeye sat up and pulled his feet out of the water once he became aware of his father's presence.

Daniel bent over and pulled Hawkeye up to his feet, which were soaking wet. His hair was just as soaked and his nose and cheeks were turning bright red from the cold.

"What were you thinking!"

"I-I'm sorry. I fell asleep."

"What if the tide came in!? Did you think about that!? And look! You're completely wet!"

Hawkeye swallowed the lump in his raw throat and began to pull his socks and shoes on.

Daniel watched as he slowly tied the laces on his shoes, which were also soaked from the rain. As his son finished, he watched in surprise as he was met with a tight embrace, and Hawkeye began sobbing against his chest.

"I'm sorry."

Daniel looked down at him and shook his head. "No, no. I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"I just want Mom to get better..."

He placed his hand on the back of his muddy sweater. "I know."

He gently rubbed his back as the two stood in the downpour. And as Hawkeye calmed down, he released himself from the embrace and reached for his father's hand.

"Let's get back inside before you catch cold," he said, walking hand in hand back to where the grass met the sand.


End file.
